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It's like warm apple cider for the soul...The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977)

Soundtrack/Score/Music: 6.5

Story/Screenplay/Narrative: 5.5

Characters/Characterization/Voice-Acting: 9.5

Art Direction/Design: 7

Themes/Archetypes/ Artistic Interpretation: 10

From RM:

I gotta get up. I gotta get going, I'm going to see a friend of mine. He's round and he's fuzzy, I love him because he's just...

Pooh Bear! Winnie the Pooh Bear!Lookin' for fun, chasin some hunny beesPooh Bear I know he's out thereRumble-y tumble-y, climbin' a hunny treeI'll spare you the rest. So, Winnie The Pooh. This particular theatrical release was cobbled together from three previously released featurettes, Winnie The Pooh and The Honey Tree (1966), Winnie The Pooh & The Blustery Day (1968), and Winnie The Pooh and Tigger Too! (1974), so technically, this is a package film. But, it holds itself to a far higher standard, and came out thirty years later, so we're going to ignore that fact.

The film is a collection of stories about our titular Pooh Bear, from his first encounters with his addiction, Hunny, his hilarious attempts to scam bees out of said Hunny by disguising himself as a little black raincloud, to the time when he ated to much Hunny, which got him stuck in Rabbit's front door. This pretty much wraps up the first of the three acts. The second one includes Blustery Days, introduces us to rapid stalwarts of the story Tigger and Piglet. First, the massive storm happens, wherein blusters occur, Owl's house is ruined, Tigger arrives and explains the subtleties of hephalumps and woozles to a confused Pooh, rain comes and provides a disturbing level of water damage to everyone's homes, Pooh accidentally resuces Piglet, Piglet gives his home to Owl, and moves in with Pooh, despite the relative brevity of their relationship.

The final short deals with Rabbits frustration over Tigger, and his harebrained schemes to get Tigger to stop bouncing. He finally succeeds in this, after a failed attempt to get Tigger lost, wherein he himself is lost, until finally Tigger, in a fit of Hubris, bouncs too high, and is scared to come down. Rabbit makes him forswear bouncing and this makes Tigger sad, but then Rabbit lets him bounce, and all are happy. Then, there is a heartbreaking scene where Christopher Robin, the boy amongst stuffed dolls, tells Pooh that he as to start growing up, and Pooh says he'll always be there for him. Then it pulls back to a live-action Nursery, where live-action Pooh Bear winks, much to your horror. End.

This film is unique, even among Disney films, for its ability to make me feel like I'm watching it all over again for the first time. The second Sebastian Cabot begins explaining the Mr. Sanders sign above Pooh's house, I'm five again, my mother is making me french toast, I'm in pajamas with feet, and all is well with the world. No matter how old I get, the first time I see Pooh try to think, or hear Tigger explain the intricate, most likely foreign spelling of his name (T-i-double guh-err), something inside me melts, and everything is full of... whatever I was full of at age five.

The art is unexceptional, but good by the relatively low standards of the 60s/70s, and the framing device of the book is used to great effectiveness in both the art and plot. What defines this film though are clearly the characters. Frankly, I could care less about inclement weather or bees, because Pooh Bear is adorable doing anything. He is all that is light in this world. And while perhaps some of his songs aren't as memporable, and his stakes aren't as high, he's still among the finest creations, and finest re-definitions of a character, that Disney ever created.

From Wiry:

Oh, bother. Tut tut, it looks like rain. Oh, stuff and fluff. Think, think. You never can tell with bees. Silly old bear.

You can't deny the Pooh charm. I remember my sister had a Pooh whose nose wiggled when you squeezed his hand. You could totally hear the mechanized rotating what-dilly at work, but it was still just the most precious thing. What's confounding about Pooh is his amazing ability to be so cute without ever crossing into annoying. Like so many animals that populate works designed for children, Pooh is very child-like, but he's also something of a little old man (thanks Sterling). Pooh may be gluttonous and a bit simple, but thankfully he's never going to try to teach you how to count or speak Spanish. Those are both valuable lessons, don't get me wrong, but Pooh somehow manages to create a richly populated world where adventures are had without the risk of anything truly horrible happening and lessons are imparted without them ever feeling heavy-handed. Though it's not a problem in this film, I found the limitations of the Hundred-Acre Wood to be grating in later installments. More so than anything else Disney, nothing truly bad happens in this world, so it's hard for there to be things like character growth or intricate plotlines. But, that's not really the point.

No, the point is the charm. But more than that. RM and I chatted about that particular feeling watching this gives us. For RM, it's a maple flashback full of warm fuzzies. But, for me Pooh will always be autumnal. And I don't just mean in the blustery-day, muted color style way, I mean that feeling of melancholy as it starts to get colder and dark. The series has always hinged on that tension between Christopher Robin growing up versus remaining in the Wood. And, while Christopher Robin is hardly the most interesting character (what with being a stand-in for us), there's the worry that, when he goes away, the Hundred-Acre Wood ceases to exist. There's more ambivalence toward growing up here than one finds in Peter Pan - for Peter, his opposition to adulthood is unequivocal and bratty, and (I think at least) the world he offers is more deeply flawed than the Hundred-Acre Wood. Yet, even though the Wood is something of a paradise, none of the animals pull a Pan and kick/scream as Christopher announces he won't be coming around so much anymore.

But, while you can return to the Wood (unlike Neverland), I do think it's never quite the same. I watch Winnie the Pooh and most of all I'm filled with sadness that I no longer think all my stuffed animals come alive when I'm not around. Pooh inspires a longing in me for more magical times, that sort of magic that's really the charm of Disney, isn't it? For all the cynicism, and the slapping of these films on the slab to dissect, the wonder never dissipates. And yes, we all must grow up, but I think that's all the more reason you have to have those Hundred-Acre Woods to come home to stay sane. Maybe it's a little Don Quixote of me, but I think that's so.Final Grade: B+

1.) Fantasia2.) The Lion King3.) Sleeping Beauty4.) The Hunchback of Notre Dame5.) Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs6.) The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh7.) Peter Pan8.) Cinderella9.) The Adventures of Ichabod & Mr. Toad10.) Lady and The Tramp11.) The Great Mouse Detective12.) Pinocchio13.) The Jungle Book14.) The Black Cauldron15.) Mulan16.) The Three Caballeros17.) Treasure Planet18.) Saludos Amigos19.) Fun and Fancy Free

Fantasia is the magical story of a young princess, Melodia, who finds herself gifted with a talent for song. As luck would have it, the dashing prince of the nearby kingdom is having a singing competition, which he aptly has named "Thrills, Trills, and Girls, Girls, Girls!" Melodia journeys to the neighboring kingdom, but is beset by many trials. To the tunes of Toccata and Fugue in D Minor by Johann Sebastian Bach, she becomes lost in the shadowy forest that separates the two kingdoms. Abstract shapes fly by in the darkness, some bearing an uncanny resemblance to musicians (from Hades!!!). Thankfully, she soon comes upon a more tranquil area of the wood, where she encounters a group of cute fairies frolicking to Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite. Melodia laughs with delight as they perform for her, and is thrilled as various plant forms that bear a strong resemblance to certain ethnic groups join in the fun. Melodia flees, though, as things begin to get hairy and the fairies run amok with climate manipulation. Horrors!

Melodia, nearly out of breath, soon finds herself at a large stone tower in the middle of the wood. She thinks back to tales she heard long ago of an ancient and powerful sorcerer who lived therein. As she peeks inside, she is hit full-on with a bucket of water. Melodia starts to yell at the offender, only to see that it is in fact a broom with two grotesque arms, marching to the beat of Paul Dukas's The Sorcerer's Apprentice. Melodia looks inside, only to see dozens upon dozens of brooms dumping cascades of water into the overflowing room. A torrent of water bursts out the window, sending Melodia spiraling down a path and into an open crevice. Melodia tumbles down, down, down, until some wild-looking trees slow her fall. Melodia slides down the branches of the tree and looks around. What an interesting place... and with a song titled The Rite of Spring playing, what could possibly go wrong? Is this merely an underground forest? No! It is the LAND OF THE LOST! Melodia turns and lets out the most beautifully pitched scream as a lumbering, famished Tyrannosaurus Rex stretches its razored maw to...

Intermission, intermission, intermission...

Melodia wakes up. Was it all a dream? Around her, chubby-buttoxed cherubs splash her with wine. What fun! Melodia stretches and is helped upright by a jaunty centaur (much to the irritation of his color-corresponding centaurette mate). It is a veritable Pastoral Symphony as adorable mythological mutants frolic in barrels of wine and crystal-clear lakes. At last, thinks Melodia, I have arrived at the idyllic land for which I set out! And look, ostriches performing the Dance of the Hours on point as alligators attempt to rape a hippo in a tutu!

But here was Melodia's terrible mistake. She stood by watching, and did nothing. As punishment for her sinful inactivity, the Bald Mountain cracks open and Satan devours her. The end.

So, that's basically how Fantasia goes down, except without the princess, thank God. I'd first like to direct you to the Wikipedia article on this film to provide some context - I could do it here but mostly I'd just be copying and pasting. And you have the time, right? Right?

Fantasia's a bit of a sticky wicket in terms of the films we've watched up to this point, and it really is more the Disney exception than the Disney rule. Certainly, there are things here that are Disney staples - Mickey Mouse and other anthropomorphized animals, jaunts through disturbing and surreal imagery, racial profiling, and bare-chested women. But, in the live-action opening of the film, clear goals and parameters are defined. For one, this is a project of animators responding directly to a musical piece, as opposed to music scholars working in conjunction with animators to create a concept. Some of the shorts will tell a story, some will present striking imagery, and others will dabble chiefly in the abstract.

If the Disney goal is to create art for mass consumption (and, I think that is certainly part of it), Fantasia must be perceived as a time when art and education succeeded in wresting control from pandering to public taste. Let me be clear: this is not about to go down the road of "If it's popular and people enjoy it, it must suck. Only things the masses dislike are worth experiencing." But I do think this is Disney stretching as far as it can into the territory that's working hard to enrich the audience and elevate animation itself to a more respected plane. It is not meant to be, say, an entertaining diversion.

I know it may sound as though I am speaking in an overly grand way about the film, but you really should do yourself a favor and sit down with it if you haven't watched it in a while. The animation is simply enchanting, as artists have been given free reign to play within the confines of a flexible music piece as opposed to a hard, dialogue-driven narrative. Even having seen computer-animated features and startling later pieces of animation, I was still struck by the sheer beauty of the animation here.

While there's no weak number in the bunch, I will admit that certain pieces are likely to appeal to some over others. In my case, I can appreciate the abstract lines and phallic clouds of gold in Toccata and Fugue, but it's not to my taste. I actually enjoy the final two most of all - Dance of the Hours still cracks me up, and Night on Bald Mountain manages to still be scary even as other things I found scary as a child are now (at best) novel or amusing. And I have to hand it to Fantasia - I remember watching it several times as a child, and while there were certain drag areas, it managed to hold my attention for two hours without narrative propelled by dialogue. It's just so damn clever. One complaint I have, however, is that the audio hasn't really stood the test of time. Perhaps there is a mega-specialer DVD out there I need to get my hands on, but the tinniness of these great works sometimes held back from the majestic factor. Hey, you know what'd be awesome? Seeing Fantasia done with a live orchestra. Oh, delicious...

From RM:

What to do about Fantasia. My esteemed colleague, has already espoused its genius, and I must say, it is among the finest five or so pieces of theoretical animation I've ever seen. Disney had a vision, and it was that they could do a rotating series of these things, with 20-30 of these classical shorts that would be switched in and out, like guest stars. Which, as it turns out, didn't work out. But the seven or so pieces of art (which is what they really are) that are in here are truly sublime. If Snow White showed us that feature-length animation was possible, Fantasia showed us that animation itself can be more than Bugs Bunny in drag (though, why would you ever want it to be?)

So why do I feel weird watching Fantasia?

Not in that "Oooh, those centaurettes ain't got no tops on" (I shit you not, in Fantasia, female centaurs are centaurettes) way, or in that "Wow, I'm never going to sleep now that I've seen Chernabog in all his mountainy glory" way.

It's different.

It's the part of me that is a philistine. I watch this, and I appreciate it's art. More is done in this ONE FILM, in exploring what can and can't be done with ink and brush than in any other Disney film. Texture, color, motion are all pushed beyond what you could expect now, much less what must have been feasible then. But something feels weird, and I think I know what it is.

Detachment.

As fun or funny The Pastoral Symphony is or Dance of the Hours is, and as enjoyable as the rest are, I spend at most twenty minutes with any one character, and though those twenty minutes are well crafted, and done better than most of the feature lengths, when you spend 80 minutes following Belle, or Ariel, or Aladdin, you feel for them. You care about them. You're invested in them.

In short, this movie could have used Melodia.

I wasn't invested in Fantasia. Its parts are more glorious than many other Disney films. But to me, it is no more than the sum of those parts. Which is why, though technically amazing, I won't be reaching for it when I have that "Disney Itch," which, coincidentally, is transmittable through fluids, so, be safe everyone.

Tally-ho! The Best of the package films by far starts of with Basil (I was Sherlock Holmes) Rathbone narrating the tale of that well known amphibian libertine J. Thaddeus Toad, of the Pembrokeshire Toads. His tragic story is one of addiction, to gypsy carts, talking horse companions named Cyril, and, worst of all, motor cars. His insatiable urge and disregard has all but bankrupted him, and his inability to not not have a car leads him to, in a fit of poor judgment, trade his ancestral manse, Toad Hall, for a motor car which had been stolen by a pack of weasels. Toad takes the fall, despite the brave efforts of his friends MacBadger, Ratty and Moley. For it was Mr. Winkie, the proprietor of the tavern where this shady deal had gone down, who lied and said that Toad tried to sell him the motor car, knowing it was stolen. Well, Toad gets locked up, busts out, recovers the Deed from Winkie and the Weasels, and somehow that makes all his legal troubles go away. Until he becomes addicted to airplanes. That marvelous bastard.

While this film may have some plot holes (see above, deed = exoneration?), it cannot be accused of not being enthusiastic, bright cheerful, upbeat, and full of colorful characters, it runs head on through any opinions you or I might have of the dreary folderol one expects of a package film. The horse Cyril and diabetically sweet Moley are real highlights, as is the particularly vacuous character design of Mr. Winkey.

The credit must be given here to the Disney team, for both this and the subsequent piece, Ichabod Crane, for someone to have stood up and said: "We can't make this 80 minutes. Let's make it well in 35." This is a particular boon in that the source material they have is...you'll love this... actual fiction! Not three page parables! So they don't NEED a chipmunk that can soft-shoe or a scatting dolphin, they can just rely on source material. How refreshing. The music in this is bright but forgettable, which is better than the rancid back of your mouth taste that most of the package films numbers leave you with.

From Wiry:

I actually don't have much to say about Mr. Toad other than it's one wild ride.

Haa...

But, okay. So, irksome plot point noted above aside, this is one of the unique situations in Disney in which there's MORE source material than one finds in the film itself. They didn't need to fill out the bare bones with animal subplots, they just needed to select what they wanted from the many tales already hangin' out in The Wind and the Willows (which, incidentally, always sounded so much more dramatic to me than one would believe with regards to a tale of frogs and badgers). Toad is indeed, as posited by the narrator, a superb character. With his manias. Tee hee. I'm still having trouble wrapping my brain around this world, though, with animals who live as humans do but in human-sized spaces occasionally frequented by homo sapiens. It's sorta weird. Kinda like a car thief being locked in the Tower of London. Just sayin'. But we've got a good story of friendship going on here, which is a nice break from the Disney romantic tradition. What-ho, I say.

Ichabod:

From Wiry:

"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" is the great American ghost story. No, that's not really hyperbole. For real. I'm not really big on a lot of the American folklore - Paul Bunyan, that other guy, and Johnny "Biodiversity Terrorist" Appleseed. But I'd say the tale is quite comparable to A Christmas Carol in that it's a comparatively contemporary (1820 feels like yesterday) work of fiction that has entered the cultural mind as legend.

Let's do some refreshing. The story begins with the arrival of the gangly, scarecrow-esque schoolmaster, the singular Ichabod Crane. In a fashion that smacks a bit of the later Beauty and the Beast, the town marvels at this oddball intellectual. And then there's the Gaston of this piece, Brom Bones, the town rowdy who wants less to marry Ichabod than dent his face. Ichabod soon becomes the town lothario, though, charming the young women and the mothers of his students into numerous social engagements. But his agenda shifts from random acts of feasting to sex and money once he meets the charmingly Dutch Katrina Van Tassel. With a bit of dumb luck and several years of intensive yoga training, he manages to thwart Brom Bones's efforts to court Katrina for himself. Katrina delights in playing the gents against each other, Brom Bones having been up till now monopolizing her time (and really, isn't it more fun to have two gents fighting for your affection?). Katrina then invites both to her father's Halloween party, at which it seems Ichabod nearly seals the deal. Brom, however, noticing Ichabod's superstitious nature (salt over shoulder), recounts the legend of the Headless Horseman. While riding home from the party that night, the spooked Ichabod has various run-ins with nature rendered scary by his overactive imagination. Then, of course, the Headless Horseman appears and begins a grand chase toward the bridge. Just as Ichabod reaches the other side, he gets a flaming pumpkin to the face. And now we're in ambiguous epilogue. Katrina and Brom marry, but what became of Ichabod? Was the Horseman merely Brom in disguise? Is Ichabod dead, or did he flee Sleepy Hollow with his tail between his legs?

You have to admire the writing and character work in this short - it's true the source material has some excellent and strong characters and agendas, but they're all distilled here in a way that maintains a consistency and clarity rarely found in even the full-length features. We've got an old-fashioned love triangle in which, oddly enough, the gangly loser seems to be ahead by a nose (ha!). And we've got a coquettish female love interest who is more than some dumb blonde - I mean, she's no Ariel or Belle, but she's wise on playing her beaus off one another. It's also refreshing how far they go to make Ichabod unlikeable - in addition to bordering on the grotesque (yes, he's supposed to be gangly and geeky, but he looks like an apple with a carrot shoved in it atop a twig), his affection for Katrina is explicitly tied to her ... tracts of land. While Ichabod introduces culture to the town, he also poaches (mostly food) here and there, feeding the same ego that makes him feel entitled to Katrina and her estate.

So, in a sense, the Horseman-as-prank is well deserved. The ending, of course, leaves it open as to Crane's ultimate fate. In other versions of the tale, one might play up the supernatural elements earlier on or make more mention of the legend. This variation, though, is really a romantic comedy for 90% of the time. So, I'm inclined to lean toward Brom as the culprit in this version, in spite of the notably otherworldly design of the Horseman. It fits the story being told up to that point, and I don't really see the Horseman coming in as some spirit of the town exploited by the big city boy. It's really just a competition that ends once Brom resolves to take things two steps too far. But, he wins. So let that be a lesson to you intrepid riders in the night.

From RM:

How terrific is this? Seriously. In this version of "Sleepy Hollow" (I'll get to the, ugh, other one in a moment) the headless horseman is a TACTIC, not Christopher Walken acting nuttier-than-all-git-out. This Disney films has TACTICS, and OBSTACLES, and other things that you are told (or at least I was) make for dramatic tension and conflict! Praise Jesus! And the characters make sense! And are like how they are in the book! And there's no witches or Police Constables or Christina Ricci or.....

Let me back up. And say that I do enjoy Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow. My problem with it mostly is that this version, which has been burned into my skull, and is actually close to the source material, is much better and more logical than Tim's version which takes his legendary ability to deviate from source material to new highs and lows, in some ways succeeding, in some, not so much.

How nice is it to have two shorts that feature utterly unlikable protagonists? Maybe this is the weirdo in me talking, but we have an addict and a sexually and fiscally charged rake and pie-thief as our two heroes. They're both effete, silly, compulsive and at times, dangerous fools as characters, and yet we root for them as we laugh at them. It's wonderful to see these kind of layered characters, which seems to thrive more coming from fiction than from fable. Yes, it leaves less room for Disney interpretation, but that's not always a bad thing. In fact, most often it's a good thing.

Also, Brom Bones, the arguable third protagonist, is basically Gaston's American cousin. It's bizarre. Take a look sometime. He's got biceps to spare, not a bit of him is scraggly or scrawny, and all the womenfolk take a right shine to him.

This was the last of the "package films" that dominated the 1940s, and it makes an effective bridge. Leaving behind much of the glorified music video shorts, these are really two "short films" with a narrative and music that clearly bridge to Disney's next film, Cinderella, which brings back Disney to the single narrative form. I don't believe that it is a coincidence that this last one was the best. If they had so desired, I feel the package film as a form could have been perfected had they gone down this road further, but perhaps it is for the best that they did not.

***Revised, 10/26/08***: Check out our new link, under groundwork, called Spreadsheet! It's a direct download link for an excel file that itemizes all the info we've processed so far! Letter grades, how each generation of films average out score wise, highest to lowest rankings for each category, it's the most efficient way to waste your time with us!

Do we really even need to do a summary for this one? The Cinderella story is up there in an elite crowd of fairy tale well-knowedness with the likes of "Red Riding Hood" and "The Lambkin and the Little Fish." Well, maybe not the latter. The Disney version is especially notable because it has entered the cultural mindset as a definitive version of the tale, and yet it's easy enough to find alternate takes. There's the Rodgers and Hammerstein telemusical, not to mention the (oh) thousands of variations throughout pretty much every culture.

It's really the details that vary. In this version, Cinderella's father is not around. She instead has the company of various household rodents and birds. She goes about her daily chores, abused by her stepmother and stepsisters. On this particular day, a ball is announced for all eligible maidens. The stepmother tries to prevent Cinderella from going by imposing heavy chores and a dress code, but Cinderella's faunic friends form fabric discarded by the stepsisters into the necessary gown. The stepsisters, thinking Cinderella had stolen from them, rend the dress asunder and leave her crying in the garden as they head off to the ball. Then there's some bippidi action and we've got pumpkin carriages. Cinderella makes it to the ball and dances with a gent she somehow fails to realize is the prince. Yadda yadda slipper, yadda yadda stepsisters can't fit. What's interesting in this version is Lady Tremaine (that's the wicked stepmother, y'all) realizes Cinderella is the lady in question and actively blocks her. In many other versions, the stepmother just wants to hide this scuzzy maid, but here, Lady Tremaine first locks Cinderella and, when mousy plot devices fix that, she trips the footman (ha!) carrying the slipper, causing it to shatter. Fortunately, Cinderella, the coy minx, kept its brother. Suck it, Tremaine.

I think it's really impossible to argue that the Cinderella story is anything other than iconic. We can't really fauly source material here, though I've sort of always been bothered by the fact that any interpretation requires Cinderella to be a soggy blanket with no self-esteem who is too nice to ever challenge her oppressors. Ah well. The biggest Disney addition here is definitely the animal aspect. While one could make the argument that the battle between the mice and Lucifer is the Cinderella/Tremaine struggle make physical, but RM correctly pointed out that it's really just tarted-up Tom and Jerry. The mice themselves are cute, memorable, and probably some of the better annoying animal sidekicks in Disneydom, but the time spent with them really ought to have been used to flesh out the major plot players, like the neglected prince or the stepsisters.

I should disclose that I recently watched the Rodgers and Hammerstein Cinderella from 1997. The Brandy one. And while a lot of people have issues with this version (like colorblind casting, which, if that's your biggest beef... you're an idiot), I think there's a lot it does better than Disney. For starters, it spends more time with the actual characters instead of dallying in animal slapstick. Second, and this isn't particularly fair but oh well, the music's better. The numbers other than "Bippidi Boppidi Boo" and the micey "Work Song" have not aged particularly well, though I do enjoy them as far as vanilla ballads go. Honestly, I think what the Disney version has going for it most is that everyone knows it and likes it well enough for it to hang around on so many "top" lists. It's hard to find fault with it without sounding like a grump, but it's hard not to compare it to other versions and wonder why it's so definitive when it misses so many opportunities.

From RM:

Looking at this film artistically is a very interesting experience. Some of the character design is very beautiful, and some of it looks like it's from a Goofy cartoon (the classic "Yah-hoo-hoo-hooey!" falling sound is even in the film). However, the film's attention to artistic detail is very impressive. Architectural attention to detail is better done in later films, mostly Beauty and The Beast, which is of a similar time-frame and design, but it is still very prettily done in this film.

What I take away from this film is likability, and the lack of it that I get from this movie. We've gotten 1/3 of the way through the canon at this point, and I can't honestly say I like this movie more than The Jungle Book. I acknowledge that it is better, in the way that I acknowledge that David Byrne is better than Toni Basil, but I'd still rather hear "Hey Mickey" before "Dream Police". Perhaps that makes me a fool. Perhaps I am. Perhaps it is simply the utter dearth of human male characters under the age of fifty for me to identify with. Perhaps I'm just repressing my own sad history with wicked stepmothers. I can't tell anymore.

We know, we know. We haven't been around in a while. We're terrible, horrible naughty little boys.

Hey, what a great segue to.....

Peter Pan (1953)

Soundtrack/Score/Music: 6

Story/Screenplay/Narrative: 8

Characters/Characterization/Voice-Acting: 7.5

Art Direction/Design: 9

Themes, Archetypes, and Artistic Interpretation: 7

From RM:

So, Peter Pan. Hurrah for boy films! No icky girls here, just poorly crafted sexist archetypes. You know, how we all saw women when we were eleven. Or still do. Who am I to judge?

Anyhow, Peter Pan is the story of, you guessed it, Peter Pan, the mythical boy who never grew up and adventurer par excellence of Neverland, mythical land that.....never grew up, I guess. Anyhow, he has this fan club, comprised of the Darling children: Wendy, Michael and John. One evening Peter arrives to retrieve his shadow, which was taken from him by Nana, the underpaid and, we can only assume, illegal alien St. Bernard nanny and nursery maid. As Wendy helps him reattach it, our hero learns that she is moving out of the nursery and "growing up" tomorrow, as per her father's wishes. Peter, who enjoys listening to her stories every night (it was during one of these sit-ins that his shadow was taken), decided to take her back to Neverland so she can keep telling him stories. Unfortunately, this means taking along the baggage that is Michael and John as well, but Pan takes this in stride. Not so cheery about these turns of events is Tinkerbell, the pixie partner of Peter Pan, as well as the embodiment of sex in this film (trust me). She gets jealous and tries to have Pan's private platoon of pre-adolescent punks (the Lost Boys), shoot Wendy down. Pan discovers her plot, and banishes her for the weekend.

So, Captain Hook. He's hanging out in Neverland, despite the protestations of his crew and first mate, Mr. Smee, because he's out for Pan's blood for making an adult with a vast array of weaponry look like a total idiot. He schemes and plots, and manages to kidnap Tiger Lily, the princess of the Indian Tribe that resides on the isle. He tries to get her to reveal Pan's Private Pad, but to no avail. Pan procures the princess from her purloinment predicament and returns her to Big Chief Basso, and there is much rejoicing, except for a jealous Wendy.

Wendy is ready to go home, as are Michael and John, but Pan performs a perfectly portentous hissy fit, and sulks in his room while they leave. Little does he know that Hook has hoodwinked Tink, and has gotten the slighted sylph to reveal Pan's personal penthouse, which he has snuck upon, kidnapped the Lost Boys and the Darlings during their exeunt, and dropped a bomb disguised as a gift for Pan to pry open and go pow.

Thanks to some heroics by the bashful brownie, Tinkerbell, Pan is saved from a perfectly putrid pow-ing. He rushes to the ship where everyone is captured, wins the day, and returns the Darlings home, with Wendy ready to face her future unafraid. Hurrah!

So, quick out of the way, the song "What Makes the Red Man Red?" is pretty bad in terms of contemporary views of racism. But for back then, as much as I hate to justify racism historically, this was pretty common fare for how Native Americans were portrayed. The Mary Martin musical version of Peter Pan, which came out around the same time as this film, has the equally distressing song "Ugh-a Wugh-a Wigwam", so I refuse to see this as racist as say, Song of the South. I'd rather talk about sexism, because boy, do chicks take it on the chin in this film. Wait, that sounded bad.

Um, women are not portrayed as the powerful protectors of life and goddesses of beauty that they should be. No, that sounds pandering.

Look, ladies, you get burned in this film. Wendy is a wet-blanket mommy figure, Tink is a insanely possessive seductress (not that she and Peter would ever work, see below), Tiger Lily doesn't say one Goddamn word, and the Mermaids act like the Cheerleaders from Hell. And it's not pleasant. But, to be fair, this movie is seen from the world of a ten year-old boy. And ten year-old boys are both bigoted and sexist. Not that they intend to be cruel. But they like dropping everything down to a common denominator: Cowboys and Indians. Cops and Robbers. Boys and Girls. Us and them. It's just sort of how they work. So for a movie that is, essentially, a defense of the ten year-old, it's both fitting and a little disconcerting. But too bad. You get yours back when we get Eric in The Little Mermaid.

From Wiry:

You can fly! You can fly! You can fly! Just sprinkle yourself with pollen and think happy thoughts... or something...

Peter Pan was definitely among my top Disneys as a kid. Clearly I was a bit of an odd duck of a boy in that my favorite scene to re-watch was the seagull shaving scene, but I think, broadly speaking, this is a boy's film. Watching it again now, I realized how long it's been since I've checked in with the whole Peter Pan mythology. I missed Finding Neverland, and I don't know that I ever saw Hook other than in the theaters.

But the story of Peter Pan is really one of the best "growing up" mythologies we have. The shame I think of the Disney version is that it introduces much of the darker aspects of the tale without really exploring them (I know, I know, this is the infamous Disneyfication factor that rears its ugly head all over the place). For example: at the end of the tale, Peter decides to take Wendy and the Darling brothers (who, it should be noted, later appear as singing chipmunks in another franchise) back to London. But why? Earlier, he scorns the whole notion of leaving Neverland and growing up. While I don't think Peter's a bad person per se, he is a bratty boy who doesn't really grow up. In other words, he doesn't change. While that leaves the burden of interesting character development on others, I think it's sort of necessary for Peter to be fascinating but static - the cyclical nature of the tale (only barely hinted at in this version at the end by Mr. Darling, but fleshed out more fully in the Disney sequel and most other adaptations of the story) means Peter must always exist as a spirit of childhood. But, if he happily delivers anyone who wants to grow up home, one wonders why he keeps pulling kids to Neverland in the first place. I don't think it's a stretch to say that Peter wants always-present company. Without the Lost Boys, he has no one to lead. I think he enjoys the mother-factor with Wendy, but only insofar as she maintains the status quo.

Really, the only other characters who seem cut from the same cloth as Peter are Tinkerbell and Captain Hook: the former will always love him, the latter will always hate him. But neither can ever fulfill their ultimate end-goal. A romance between Tinkerbell and Peter is impossible both biologically and psychologically - while Peter may be able to admire her beauty, he can't really have an emotionally-invested relationship (or sex, even though Tink oozes sexy). And Hook will always threaten Peter, but the fact that Peter can fly, coupled with the ineptitude of Hook's crew, renders Hook relatively harmless.

On the whole, I think this adaptation does a good job up to a point with the material it's working with. It brings up some interesting ideas but it doesn't always follow through. The interpretation of Hook and mother-Smee is excellent. The tunes are catchy but not particularly substantial or emotionally engaging. The character design and voices are, as you probably are already aware, spot-on - there's a reason these interpretations of the characters come to mind first when Pan's on the table. And, even though I find the ending broadly unsatisfying from a character perspective, the visual of Tinkerbell whizzing all over Hook's ship to make it fly through the sky is most assuredly priceless.

On the wings of an avian ass, let us flutter south to view a duet that surely inspired Terry Gilliam's Brazil...

Saludos Amigos (1942)

Soundtrack/Score/Music: 5

Story/Screenplay/Narrative: 2.5

Characters/Characterization/Voice-Acting: 5

Art Direction/Design: 5.5

Themes, Archetypes, and Artistic Interpretation: 5.5

From Wiry:

Full disclosure: The Disney package films, with the exception of Ichabod and Mr. Toad, were never part of my formative years in the same way as the more cohesive works like Cinderella or 101 Dalmatians. This lack of nostalgia working in their favor makes things rather tricky. I think, to generalize broadly, Disney is the master of the full-length animated feature, and Warner Brothers the masters of the animated short. Lacking the hilarious cruelty of the majority of Looney Tunes shorts, Disney shorts tend to fall into the categories of either sleep-inducing wholesomeness or incoherent animated masturbation.

So, in short, boo. Hiss.** Saludos Amigos, on the whole, munches. I find the condescending 50's-style narrator ("Here's the missus, taking a pie out of the oven. Ha ha, careful there, little lady! Wouldn't want to burn those dainty fingers!") to be intolerable, and he permeates all the shorts. We at least get some respite when Donald shows up, but, for the most part, it's just Joe McVanilla talking the whole damn time.

I should pause for a moment to acknowledge the most interesting part of Saludos Amigos, which is the circumstances of its creation. The U.S. government, recognizing the popularity of Mickey Mouse in Latin America, financed a trip there for the animators to gain some inspiration. They then cranked out Saludos Amigos, their first package film. I can't blame them for doing several more of these things - they were quick to make, and helped pad the Disney coffers before they cranked out some high-budget hits in the 50's. But anyway, the idea was that Saludos Amigos would be shown around Latin America as part of the buddy project, a sort of soft-glove intervention to discourage South America from taking a dip in the Nazi pool.

Well, anyway, the film has four parts, sandwiched with a lot of live-action shots documenting the journey of the animators from country to country. There's a lot of talk about the exotic natives, yadda yadda, but it does work hard to err on the side of respectful yet curious documentation rather than caricature. The first section is basically like Turistas but with Donald Duck in place of buxom American blondes and a surly llama in place of teen-carving sadists. The second bit centers around Pedro the airplane. Full disclosure: I find anthropomorphic means of transportation (i.e. Thomas the Tank Engine and his ilk) creepy in the bad way. They raise a lot of strange questions, like "Why is he carrying the mail satchel on his wing-arm instead of shoving it up his ass like a normal plane would?" Candelabras and teapots are kosher, but a fully-mechanized plane sneezing just gives me the willies. And, the villain in this short is a mountain. That's right, a grumpy-faced mountain.

Then we have the third bit, in which a cowboy Goofy learns about being a gaucho (an Argentinian cowboy). Zzz. And last, but not least, we have the "Watercolor of Brazil" segment, featuring some quality animation, Jose Carioca, and this song in its original form (you may also recognize it from every trailer of the past year). But there's some fun samba bits, which will be pounded into the ground in the next film we're discussing in this two-fer, the illustrious, the glorious...

The Three Caballeros (1944)

Soundtrack/Score/Music: 5.5

Story/Screenplay/Narrative: 4.5

Characters/Characterization/Voice-Acting: 5.5

Art Direction/Design: 7

Themes, Archetypes, and Artistic Interpretation: 5.5

From RM:

That's right, my most learned colleague and I are each getting our own little section this week. Mostly, this is because these two films are startlingly similar. The Three Caballeros is, in essence, a repackaged package film. Take a moment, embrace the dada, and let's move on.

Congrats to Three Caballeros (cowboys, for those of you who don't habla) for at least attempting a plot for this package film: Donald Duck opens presents from his Latin American friends, which are basically cleverly disguised vignettes. Aaaaaand, plot done.

To it's credit, this movie resolves a lot of the problems with Saludos Amigos. There is a plot, and the shorts are, across the board, more entertaining. The first, the story of a penguin that hates the cold (I know, wacky, right?!) and escapes to the Galapagos is narrated by Sterling "Don't call me Pooh Bear" Holloway, and is actually sweet and funny. The second, the story of a winged donkey, is fairly insipid, but when compared to the plane cartoon from Saludos, it's Citizen Kane. After that, we're reintroduced to Jose Carioca, the wise-cracking chain-smoking Gigolo from Sao Paolo. It should be noted here that since his creation in the previous film, he had become quite the national icon in Brazil. Also, his short introduces a fairly interesting part of 3C, which is its very solid synthesis of live-action and animation, something it would later explore, unfortunately, in So Dear To My Heart and Song of the South. But in this, it's actually quite good.

Anyhow, then comes sassy Mexican parrot, films of various Mexican dances, Donald chasing tail in Acapulco (I shit you not), and a surreal* dream sequence of Donald... chasing tail. Also, the music is excellent, and actually culturally appropriate. What a refreshing change of pace.

It should be noted that, as the Disney package films go, this one is quite watchable. But, not unlike Saludos, there isn't a whole lot to say about it.

* From Wiry:

Sorry to butt in, chum - feel free to throw some dirt on Saludos if you like. The surreal dream sequence bit is definitely quizzical-look-inducing, but, when you think about things like the pink elephants sequence in Dumbo or the heffalumps and woozles bit in Winnie the Pooh, or even the overlong bear-love song in Fun and Fancy Free, you do start to see a Disney that relishes borderline-disturbing sequences of mutable creatures. That is to say, surreal dreamlike sequences. This is as good a time as any to mention "Destino," the Walt Disney/Salvador Dali collaboration of 1945 that went unfinished until very recently. So many people are surprised by the thought of Captain Melting-Lobster-Phallus in cahoots with wholesome Uncle Walt, but Walt certainly seems to have enjoyed using animation to dabble in surrealism himself.

** From RM:Well, since you asked....

I'll take a moment to defend the package films. Granted that, to date, the lowest score we have given (and probably will give across the board) currently belongs to a package film, the abomination that is/was Fun & Fancy Free, I argue that there is a distinct advantage to the package film: variety. Some of the shorts (Bongo, that stupid effing plane from Saludos) are among the greatest pieces of tripe known to tripedom, but at least, as long as you haven't sworn a blood oath to watch the whole thing beginning to end, you can skip around to the good stuff. In abominations like, oh, say Treasure Planet, every step down the connected narrative is darker, more unpleasant, and more dissatisfying than the last one, and you know that you aren't going to suddenly cut to Donald learning how to samba. It's the same shit you watched 10 minutes ago. So yes, the full-length narrative film does have more time to explore interesting plot and characters, but its bungles are far more difficult to survive. 100 times out of 100, I'd watch Saludos Amigos before I'd watch Treasure Planet.

Damn it, why am I stuck with the plot summary for this stinker? Oh well... many of you probably haven't seen this so I'll try to do it quickly. For those who are unfamiliar, Treasure Planet basically tries to shoehorn sci-fi into the pirate genre, with less-than-successful results. Rather than creating a unique world in which the original tale can be played out intergalactically, it just... pushes. Hard. Can I just say that Joseph Gordon-Levitt (voice of Jim, the lead character with a haircut straight out of a backwater 1994) is an excellent actor, and I'd like to pull out Mysterious Skin and Brick as worth seeing.

Okay so. We've got Jim, who lives with his mother (a mother? What!) in an inn she owns. When a salamander alien thing crashes with his treasure map (a golden ball), he brings the infamous pirate captain, John Silver, straight to Jim and MILF's doorstep. They flee with their family friend, Dog Hyde Pierce (Dr. Doppler), who decides to hire a crew to find the titular Treasure Planet that the map points to. Alas, his taste is poor, as the entire crew is composed of John Silver and his cronies, with the exception of the kitty captain (Emma Thompson, why?) and her First Mate. Jim is put to duty working for the cyborg cook (John Silver, natch), and they bond in a rather-cliched-song-montage-way but-still-interesting-since-it's-new-for-Disney way during their journey. A few conveniently exploding stars later, they arrive at the planet and it's mutiny time. Jim, the captain, and Dr. Dog flee to the planet, where they encounter Abomination-Bot (Martin Short), the former right-hand droid of the captain who buried his treasure somewhere on the... planet. So they find out that the map actually opens a portal to the center of the planet, with a McDuckian trove of treausre that is (of course!) booby-trapped. As the final dungeon so obediently explodes, John Silver chooses Jim over the treasure. They manage to escape through the portal, and Jim decides to let John roam free. Cue end of story, return to mom, and some horrifying kitty-dog mutants. Yay.

We knew coming into this film that it wasn't going to be good. Now, maybe it's unfair to have expectations along these lines, but let's not kid ourselves. Visually speaking, the computer animation is mostly well done, with a few "wow" moments of hand-drawn integration, but a few clunky moments as well. The score is barely worth mentioning - it flirts with a some pirate tunes (that would finally materialize in Disney's proper tackling of this subject matter in Pirates of the Caribbean), but it's mostly generic orchestral with the single annoying montage pop song.

Character-wise, I'd be hard-pressed to find a more annoyingly one-dimensional lead than Jim. He also has very bad hair. Disney seems to have been trying so hard to be "hip" be cramming as much quasi-surfing imagery alongside SPACE! and PIRATES! and DOGS DOING CATS! and stuff, but... really, it's like one of those mash-up songs where you feel like the creator didn't actually think through how "Cheri Baby" and "Thong Song" made sense for mashery. The plot has holes you could drive a solar-powered space pirate ship through, and... well, I think I've said enough. The beast is what it is.

From RM:

Treasure Planet, to its credit, took me on a roller coaster ride of emotions: confusion over the gaping plot holes; sorrow over what dark hole Emma Thomspon must have been in to agree to do this; rage, over no one properly preparing me for how lousy this film REALLY was (even though I would argue it has the worst reputation, and rightfully so); mild amusement, over the actually inspired character known as Morph (guess what IT can do?!); and finally, Pity. Pity that John Musker and Ron Clements, men who gave us The Great Mouse Detective, Aladdin, Hercules, and The Little Mermaid, will have to spend the rest of their lives living down that they also gave us... Treasure Planet.

To take you into a little bit of the backstory of how we tend to grade this, normally I end up pitching a number a little higher than maybe what the film deserves, and Wiry pragmatically, or sometimes doggedly, works us down to a more reasonable number. Not this time. I wanted to bust this film down to Fun & Fancy Free, and if it wasn't for the visuals, it'd be down there.

This film is beyond lousy. This film is horrific. When I see this, I weep for someone who, not understanding Disney in its entirety, chose to have this represent anything other than the DREGS of the DREGS of the DREEEEEGS of the darkest period in Disney history. If not for technology, this would be the worst thing ever produced by Disney, including Song of the South and The Black Hole. The score is uninspiring at some points, and insipid in others. The plot seems like poorly, POORLY done fan fiction. The animation is at times impressive at times not so much. And, other than a father son story, much of the archetypes are lousy or unnecessary (did I really NEED to see interspecies breeding, Disney? DID I?).

I'm sorry if this seems mean spirited, and Treasure Planet fan, if you're out there, please try to explain this to me. I don't want to feel this about a Disney film. I don't want to be this angry. But I am.Update 8-26-08 (from RM): I've spent the past few days musing upon this film. Not so much that it was bad. I'm sure there will be a few more unpleasant surprises for us before this is done. But how two guys like Ron Clements and John Musker, with such phenomenal taste and instinct, could make so many slip-ups in one film. Story, music, characters, even art seem poorly done. And if this were some one shot shlub like the guy who did Black Cauldron, I might understand. But not from these two. The mathematical chances that their normally good taste could stray so far from home base just seemed too bizarre to be true.

The more I thought about it, the less it made sense.

Until, one night, an almost heretical thought came to me.

What if....what if they KNEW it would be this bad? What if, deep down in their hearts, Team RonJohn knew this was going to bomb, and made it anyway? Now I know this seems crazy, but hear me out.

The Lion King changed everything. We can all agree on that. All films since Lion King have been held up against it. Even some before it are held up against it. Because for most people (not myself) it is THE standard in Disney, past and present. It may not be the best Disney film (it isn't), but at the moment it is our highest ranked and has the distinct advantage of being the last excellent Disney film before the backwards slide of the Modern Era. Now, as we have illustrated with some films (Hunchback of Notre Dame), this system isn't always fair. And I'm sure Team RonJohn (yes, I'll be calling them that from now on) knew that Simba n' pals were the modern barometer. That every film since it would be compared to it, and no film would be allowed to stand on its own individual merits.

So what if, for the greater good, they made a film so bad, that it, in effect, purged Lion King from our collective conscience as the modern barometer?

Think about it. Though I had never seen Treasure Planet until this past weekend, I was hip enough to know that since TP, the barometer has been, "Will it be as bad as Treasure Planet?" not "Is it Lion King reborn?". We've accepted that, if another Lion King comes, it could be a while, and we shouldn't be holding our collective breath.

I think Team RonJohn knew that. And I think they took the bullet for the greater good, because they knew they could survive it. It's the only way I can justify this film in my mind.

Update 8/26/08 (from Wiry): On the other hand, Team RonJohn was trying to get this stinker made for years and some wise person at Disney clearly put it off as long as possible. Come on, I mean... even in pure concept alone it's a questionable project. There are countless examples of great artists pursuing one of their own ideas to a horrible end, given how hard it is to keep continuously topping oneself. I think it's just a natural fizzle, the inevitable career blip that will (hopefully) be no more than a dip between great works (but we'll let you know once The Princess and the Frog comes out).

Jesus Christ and all his fucking glory, this film is GORGEOUS. Like, amazingly, artistically, meticulously beautiful. I take back everything I said about The Black Cauldron. The art in this film makes Black Cauldron look like a second grader's self-portrait. It is all that is good and light in this world.

Sorry. Let me take a step back.

Plot. Sleeping Beauty is the story of Aurora, a young princess blessed with great beauty and a nice set of pipes by two fairies, Flora and Fauna, on the day of her birth and betrothal to young Prince Phillip, only to have the party crashed by Demon Lady bar-none Maleficent (of Kingdom Hearts fame). Maleficent prophesies that on her 16th birthday, she will prick her finger on a spindle, and will die. Major bummer, then exeunt Maleficent and her crow familiar. Fairy #3, Merryweather, manages to find a loophole in the system and says that Aurora will only fall asleep, and be awakened by love's fist kiss. Still, for the sake of safety, the fairies agree to whisk away Aurora to the forest, and raise her as their own (in human form) to hide her from Maleficent (despite her father's proactive choice to burn every spinning wheel in the kingdom, crippling the then booming textile industry of his realm). There she grows into a beautiful young woman, who falls in love with a strange young man (Phillip). The fairies reveal her royal lineage, and her obligation to marry a prince (again, Phillip, but only we know that). She's not happy, and cries a bit in her room when they bring her secretly back to the castle. Maleficent uses a hypnotic bouncing ball to sneak Aurora to a hidden room that still held a spinning wheel, dodging the genocide, and she pricks her finger and falls asleep. Maleficent captures Phillip. The fairies help him escape, and guide him to Aurora, who he recognizes as the girl he became infatuated with in the forest. Thanks to the fairies rocking gear, he slays Maleficent in her dragon form, awakens the princess, marriage and hilarity ensues, the end.

This film began work in 1952, and was released seven years later, in 1959. If there is any word to describe this film, it is meticulous. The art, the music, the everything is very carefully thought out. Except for maybe Aurora. Though she be gorgeous, she also be a bit boring. But also has a strong brow and gorgeous, slightly masculine features that I am attracted to and willing to forgive.

We've discussed the Disney "Rule of Three" in the past, and in comes into play marvelously here. Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather are the three good fairies who help people, and are the three most well-crafted characters in this movie, and among the better in the canon. They are the characters we spend the most time with, and thus are the characters we identify with and are given the time to appreciate the nuances of them the best.

This movie is the best of the older generation that I've seen that take it's time. It doesn't have a whole lot of plot to deal with, so they let scenes and bits go on and revel in their ability to let things go on without having to worry about what comes next. It's very refreshing.

From Wiry:

Sleeping Beauty is probably my favorite of any pre-Little Mermaid Disney film, mostly because it's, well... really, really good. We had to take the time to nitpick flaws here, because the film doesn't give you a whole lot to work with in that general department. As RM says above, the art is beyond compare. The plotting is, for the most part, very well done. Unlike Snow White, in which the melding of the source material and the zany time-filling dwarfs felt a bit clunky, Sleeping Beauty takes its time and relishes its little moments (such as the infamous cake/dress scene) without losing sight of moving things forward.

But the plotting is actually the area where I have a few problems. Two, specifically. The first. Maleficent curses Aurora at the start of the film, stating that she will prick her finger before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday. Is this a prophecy? Or, is it a promise of a future attack that Maleficent will make? Why doesn't she just kill the baby while she's there? True, Maleficent's the sort of crazy bitch who'd prefer the king and queen enjoy the company of their daughter for 16 years while living with eternal dread, and then (of course) the rug-pulling comes and it's too late to pop out a replacement heir anyway.

Or maybe it's more a prophecy, that Aurora will (of her own free will) accidentally do herself in. And yet, this isn't the case. I would be fine with things if Maleficent laid out the curse, and then provided the spinning wheel in question even. But she has to actually pull a Plan 9 from Outer Space on Aurora and hypnotize her into a vampire zombie before the prickage occurs. In some ways this is necessary, because Aurora isn't really a well-developed character who, you know, makes choices. If we're talking (say) Ariel or Belle, I can see them maybe electing out of curiosity to poke sharp objects. This is meant as a compliment! I think... But anyway, the extent to which Maleficent must facilitate the elaborate demise makes the whole thing seem a touch silly.

Second problem. In the original tale, there's a huge time gap between the start of the big sleep and the grand awakening. I understand we couldn't do 50 years, because then we'd be in a situation as Maleficent describes where Prince Phillip is taking out his dentures before layin' on with the smoochies. But Aurora and the kingdom end up snoozing for, what, 8 hours tops? Like, any normal night? I understand that compressing the timeline amps up the adrenaline, or something, but I would have liked to have seen Phillip languish some before the fairies are able to give him the sword of Nehemiah and the shield of St. Paul or whatever they're called and fly the coop. Then, we wouldn't be dealing with the unbearable lightness of the preceding developments - they become actual big deals. Not that I'm suggesting a return to the original story, wherein Aurora gets raped while asleep by a married prince she's never met, but I want some weight to the proceedings.

Music-wise, a few more sung numbers would have been appreciated (so long as they weren't in the 50's soft choral style), but it's absurd to whine about Tchaikovsky. Character-wise, the fairies are dazzling as the characters we track through the story, the ones who make almost every plot decision and are most responsible for Maleficent's undoing. I'm disappointed that we have to sacrifice an interesting female lead in order to have a somewhat-shaded prince, and I think (as in Snow White) we'd care more about her fate if she had a personality.

It's time for one of the big ones, the ultimate Disney black sheep....

The Black Cauldron (1985)

Soundtrack/Score/Music: 3.5

Story/Screenplay/Narrative: 7

Characters/Characterization/Voice-acting: 8

Art Direction/Design: 7.5

Themes/Archetypes/Artistic Interpretation: 6

From Wiry:

You can give The Black Cauldron a lot of flack for being so different from the book(s) upon which it is based, but I do find one major similarity between the film and The Chronicles of Prydian on the whole. I was a huge fan of the book series - my fifth grade teacher had the entire set available for borrowing (along with the Madeleine L'Engle's Time Quartet, mmm), and I was a huge fan. So, when Black Cauldron was finally released on VHS on 1998, I snapped it up and watched it right away. However, unlike the L'Engle works, and much like the books upon which it was based, I haven't ever felt the need to revisit The Black Cauldron.

And maybe I'm wrong in this. Maybe re-reading some of those Prydian tales would be an utter delight. But probably not. It's not so much that they're just second-rate fantasy that could never hold a candle to Tolkein per se... the books are excellent. But they're also rather simple and straightforward. You've seen much of what it does before, and you'll see it done again, sometimes better and sometimes worse. But, in a world where there are fantasy works that stretch so much further outside the territory one finds in The Legend of Zelda games, I wouldn't really feel comfortable recommending The Chronicles of Prydian to anyone over the age of thirteen. There's just not a lot of substance, but I must stress that they're not bad. Just pretty good.

But we're talking about the film here, not the books upon which it is based. But I have to say that, despite the differences too numerous to mention here, I have similar issues with the film. Gurgi aside (this is true of the books too), there's no character I can really call "iconic." They're all adequate and fun, with the possible exception of the cherub-faced kid fairies. Taran's sort of like Wart from The Sword and the Stone, but maybe a little less interesting. And as far as Disney women go, Eilonwy isn't the worst in the bunch. So we've got a good team of characters, with no Eddie Murphy-esque sidekick issues.

What's interesting here is how driven by the plot (that is, the quest for the titular cauldron) the story really is. Taran, the assistant pig-keeper to old man Dallben, spends his days fantasizing about action and adventure while scrubbing the most womanly swine this side of Miss Piggy. This morning, though, Hen Wen freaks and Dallben reveals to Taran her oracular piggie powers, which reveal that the Horned King is seeking the cauldron in which is sealed some evil king thing blah blah. Anyway, the dishwater shows that Horny's on his way to steal Miss Bacon, so Dallben sends Taran away with her to go into hiding. Things don't turn out so well, though, because Hen Wen is abducted by two dragons while Taran is busy playing "hide the apple" with the furry, Smeagolesque Gurgi. Taran rushes to Castle Plun-Darr to liberate Hen Wen, but ends up imprisoned. He manages to escape, meeting a spoony bard and a bauble-boasting princess along the way. They meet up again with Gurgi and some fairies, who point them in the direction of the cauldron and send grumpy gold prospector fairy to guide them. They find the cauldron in the possession of three sex-starved witches in a swamp, but of course it does them little good since Taran bargains away his magic sword to get it and the cauldron can only be destroyed by a willing living sacrifice anyway. Whoops. Looks like they lead ol' Horny to it too. Back at the castle, Horny ties up everyone except Gurgi (who ran away at the first sign of danger), and starts brewing up himself an undead army. Fortunately, Gurgi arrives to rescue everyone, and reasons that he's a better sacrifice for the cauldron than the well-liked Taran. The undead army is stopped before it can even cross the castle drawbridge, the Horned King gets sucked into the cauldron's WMDish death knells, and Gurgi is brought back to life by the witches in exchange for the defunct cauldron. There's a kiss between Taran and Eilonwy, and the friends walk away into the golden fields that suddenly appeared outta nowhere. Yay!

So, yeah. Lots of plot. But, something that may not be apparent is that we never actually meet anyone except our principals, the villains, and the witches. Who exactly is the Horned King sending the undead army out to destroy? Where's the stakes there? And, the army's put out of commission before they even get to the destruction part. There's no climactic battle with the Horned King, he just gets flushed. So, while the scene of the army being created is disturbing and superb, there's not much payoff. And everything else pretty much goes as expected - the castle is destroyed, the two get together, yadda... I know Disney films are not bastions of surprise plots, but some of the best ones at least take the time to dwell on the little moments (like the wooden objects in Geppetto's cottage, or Ratigan's death machine). The Black Cauldron marches through its plot with little whimsy (save Gurgi and some fun bits with the witches), focusing on action at the expense of any rich nuance. And that, I think, is why it feels fun but ultimately a bit hollow and unmemorable.

From RM:

Wow. So that's what everyone was talking about. Welcome to one of the three or so movies in the Disney lexicon I HADN'T seen before starting this blog. I have to say, it is very different from anything else Disney has ever done. And, not unlike how I can't shake that maybe Don Bluth was a factor in choosing Great Mouse Detective, I can't get this Hobbity smell out of my nostrils while watching this. It's not bad. Most great art is inspired by works which precede it. Let me make myself clear. Great art this is not. But this film is nowhere near as bad as the reputation that proceeds it. It's artistically solid.

The art itself has more "Wow" moments than any Disney film I've viewed for this so far, which is a shame, because much of the character animation has that sketchy, somewhat sloppy feel of the films of the decade before it, like Robin Hood or Jungle Book. So you're viewing these amazing skies and castles and really cool visuals, with these....well, the characters in the world that is created around them fall artistically short.

The Horned King would have been more effective if I had known more about him: Who is this creature? (who?) What is he? (what?) How did he come to be? (How?). Unfortunately, the movie answers none of these questions, which is a shame, because I feel that if I had known more about The Horned King, I would have liked him, because he certainly is one of the scarier looking bastards ever to roll through Disneydom.

Also, this is the first movie we saw that didn't have a traditional musical element to it in some shape or form. Which wasn't bad, I was preparing myself to ignore that and focus on the score. That was a mistake on my part. The score is repetitive and drab, and sounds like something your goth high school classmate wrote for his musical "A Love Song for Vlad the Impaler", but it ISN'T ironic. He thinks it's deep and adds something to the story. He is wrong, and so was the composer of this film.

Can't play up Gurgi enough though. He's like a cuddly, lovable Gollum. Which I think is a concept we can all get behind.Final Grade: C+

Final Rankings:1.) The Lion King2.) The Hunchback of Notre Dame3.) Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs4.) Lady and The Tramp5.) The Great Mouse Detective6.) Pinocchio7.) The Jungle Book8.) The Black Cauldron9.) Mulan10.) Fun & Fancy Free

This is a hard one to grade. It's the 2nd Disney film, chronologically, and isn't complete shit, so it has enjoyed the sort of mythos that Snow White and Bambi have enjoyed. This makes it harder to look at it objectively, and delve into the problems of this film, which as you can see from above, are mostly plot based.

So, plot. Pinocchio is the story of, well, Pinocchio, the little wooden boy who is blessed with life by The Blue Fairy, and embarks on a quest to become a "real boy" (Even though he can cry, sneeze, and do everything short of bleed) to please Gepetto, his carver/father. In order to achieve the hemophilia he so desires, he is told to behave and learn right from wrong, and to this end, is appointed a shifty bum of an insect named Jiminy Cricket to be the physical manifestation of his non-existent conscience. Then Pinocchio embarks on a series of misadventures that take him through the dark underbelly of show business, the burgeoning donkey slave trade, the perils of playing pool (with a capital P and that stands for....wait), and learning how to scald the trachea of a massive whale. He then sacrifices his life to save Gepetto, and is granted Realhood, and much dancing and clockwork music ensues. Cue credits.

I have three problems with this film, which I shall call the three Ps: Plot, Pinocchio, and Pa-Jiminy Cricket. The plot, while not as deficient as it's rating may suggest, is wounded by its jarringly episodic nature. Fade to blacks, characters disappearing forever, and disjointed segues from one moment to the next make it difficult to follow anything other than our hero and his mite mate. Which brings us to problems 2 and 3. Pinocchio is about as interesting as, well, a piece of wood. He doesn't really do much, and until the very end, most of his problems are solved for him, which, if it is the point, seems to be counterintuitive to the whole "know right from wrong", concept. So, his main tool in that growth is Jiminy "Face of the Franchise" Cricket. And don't get me wrong, "When You Wish Upon A Star"deserves every bit of love it gets as an iconic song. However, Jiminy is originally created as a character who is a bit of a bum, and it seems like his growing up is just as important as Pinocchio's. But he quickly becomes Mr. Moral Absolute, and ends up relying on the help of others just as much as Pinocchio. Also, while Cliff Edwards (the voice of JC) is wonderful for the songs, his folksy tones and "Aw Shuckses" takes away from a character that could have been even more than he was.

From Wiry:

I remember, once upon a time, thinking that Pinocchio was a very scary movie. There's Monstro, of course, but I think the most terrifying bits are the ones that show the mutability of the human frame. In other words, mostly the bits with the boys turning into asses. But also, the whole nose thing would be pretty unnerving if there wasn't a vacant-eyed, transparent blonde with reality-altering powers hanging about too.

One of the things I found myself enjoying this time around was the odd sort of world in which the story takes place - there's little bits of everything. You have the Blue Fairy, who looks like Snow White gone platinum, alongside all these other human characters who are far closer to caricatures with their big, bulbous noses or buck teeth. Then you have the anthropomorphic kitties and foxes and crickets who have odd relationships with inanimate women. It's a world where magical things can happen either via straight-up magic (the fairy's) but also hard drugs (hee-haw). So, lots of fun stuff going on there.

I'm not a huge fan of the film on the whole, though. As RM touches on above, its episodic nature renders things a bit choppy. One gets the feeling the story is marching off to some new thing before the previous thing is even complete (note, for example, that none of the problems of the antagonists are ever really solved - Stromboli continues on his merry way, the Coachman absconds with all those naughty boys to the salt mines, and Monstro lives to fight another day). Sure, P manages to learn how to be an obedient, brave, ideal, blah blah boy, but he certainly doesn't learn how to finish things. On the other hand, a little boy can't really be expected to solve every issue that comes along, and maybe it's just my modern temperament that drives a desire for the plot to be wrapped up in a cute little package.

But, you know what? Oh well. It doesn't change the fact that the whole thing's pretty uneven (note the lack of any songs whatsoever in the second half - where's Monstro's rousing bass soliloquy on the lonely life of a whale?) and I really, really hate Jiminy Cricket. Maybe it's because his old-fashioned folksiness grates on me, and he also had a presence in the abomination that is Fun and Fancy Free (indeed free of both fun and fancy). Would it have been so hard to go a little further with the womanizing bum thing? Ah, well. We'll always have Honest John.

Final Grade: B

Final Rankings:1.) The Lion King2.) The Hunchback of Notre Dame3.) Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs4.) Lady and The Tramp5.) The Great Mouse Detective6.) Pinocchio7.) The Jungle Book8.) Mulan9.) Fun & Fancy Free

I think we can all agree that Mulan is undoubtedly the finest tale based around a drag king that Disney's ever produced. I'm still waiting for the drag queen one, but, well, we can't have everything. Mulan is often considered the "girl power" flick of the Disney canon, and with good reason. I'd argue that Disney isn't as lacking in strong women as many people think (we spent a good portion earlier today watching Esmeralda take down ten men with a tin hat), but Mulan goes deeper into confronting gender issues than any other Disney movie.

It all starts shortly after Mulan accidentally mutilates the matchmaker. No, wait. Earlier. Incensed by the mere existence of the Great Wall, the leader of the Mongolian army (Shan Yu) starts invading China. So anyway. Back to Mulan. Emperor Mister Miyagi sends out an order than one man from every family must join the army. Unfortunately, Mulan's dad is a bit worse for wear from his military days, so Mulan decides to take his armor and his place. Several montages later, Mulan successfully destroys most of the Hun army and earns the gratitude of her sexy commander, Li Shang, only to immediately lose it when he discovers she doesn't have dangly bits. Mulan then follows the remnants of the Hun army into the Imperial City, convinces some of her soldier buddies to dress as concubines, and turns Shan Yu into a very pleasant light show. Li Shang follows her home, only to be hit on by Mulan's grandma. The end.

Let's get this big gay elephant out of the room right off the bat. No, I'm not talking about the blatantly gay misogynist right-hand man to the emperor who makes Mulan's life hell for a while. No, I'm talking about Eddie Murphy. Not Mushu, Eddie Murphy. I think we all realize now that this man poisons almost anything he touches. And while I found him infuriating when I first saw the movie, he's all the more pernicious with ten years of hindsight and bad memories. The Eddie Murphy grave is only deeper now, which makes the abyss of Mushu all the more terrifying. Not only is his shtick as funny as being trapped in a room with Jim Carrey on crystal meth, he leads an unholy legion of unnecessary sidekicks that crowd this film. We have the requisite three soldiers (see the Sleeping Beauty fairies, or the Hunchback gargoyles, for disparate examples of the rule of three conscience-sidekicks). But we also have the gratuitous cricket, the silent horse, and the dopey dog. Not to mention all those hard-partying ancestors. The point is, while Mulan's arc is interesting to watch, no space is left for other characters to develop. The result is that the movie is basically filled with sidekicks.

Musically, there's not much to say. "I'll Make a Man Out of You" is a great number, and "Reflection" isn't the worst of the Disney protagonist "I Want" numbers. But singing in this movie is mostly used to propel montages, as opposed to character development. And let's not forget the score, which sounds like Top Gun sneezing. Sort of.

Overall, there's not much to satisfy in the film. I feel bad, sort of, because I don't truly hate the film at all. But I certainly won't reach for it on the shelf when I'm looking for one of the newer Disney flicks. The art's great, at least.

From RM:

The Art IS great. Or at least, it's stylized to keep with the culture it is attempting to represent, which is more than can be said for many Disney films. Wiry already touched upon Mushu, which, when all is said and done, is the thing you walk away from this film with. A searing hatred of all that Eddie Murphy stands for.

I will say this, that the Fa family in this film is profoundly satisfying. It's a whole family, not only Mommy or only Daddy, but a whole family; With a sassy Grammy to boot! And those three characters are so well crafted, for the five minutes of air they get, that it just makes Eddie Murphy all the more frustrating.

I'm sorry. I'll find something else to talk about.

Shan Yu. The villain that wasn't stoic enough to be a silently intimidating force of nature, and not important enough to the story to have anything interesting done with him. When I look up and down the canon of Disney villains, it's hard to find a villain more thoroughly unsatisfying than Shan Yu. Since the story is Mulan bringing her family honor, and the main obstacle there is the enormously poor gay joke Chi Fu, I somewhat wish he had been made more of an antagonist, and Shan Yu had just been a silent tool of wrath that needed to be dealt with. Or that they had given Shan Yu more of a reason to do anything than because he's the necessary villain. People rail against this concept when I see it in other films, yet a villain in this who is barely more than an effective thug is somehow tolerated because he's a BIG effective thug. I don't buy into it.

Also, if I were China, I'd be more than a little offended as to how my culture was represented as basically a woman-hating, fascist regime, when in reality, most of the world was that way until 1900 or so. Just saying.

Mulan is a really well-crafted protagonist though. She prevents this from being much worse than a....

Final Grade: C+

Final Rankings:1.) The Lion King2.) The Hunchback of Notre Dame3.) Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs4.) Lady and The Tramp5.) The Great Mouse Detective6.) The Jungle Book7.) Mulan8.) Fun and Fancy Free

And it's not just the perceived bias of Wiry and I that thinks so. Our special guest viewers, Steve and PeeDee (PowerDrill), had either not seen it since its original release, or had not seen it at all, and both were wowed by the film's depth and quality.

But I'll get to why in a moment.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame is the story of Quasimodo, the deformed bell-ringer of Notre Dame Cathedral, who has, through various unspeakable actions done by others, become the young ward of Judge Claude Frollo, the most cruel and merciless judge in Paris. Quasimodo has spent all his life in seclusion in the bell-tower, accompanied only by his (shudder) three gargoyle friends, and his hobby of whittling wooden copies of the people he enviously gazes upon down below. Quasimodo's greatest wish is that he could interact with them, but he feels he is unable to because of his deformity, which is supported by Frollo's insistence that he would be rejected. The story follows his first rebellion of Frollo, leading to his unlikely friendships with the entrancing gypsy Esmeralda; the noble soldier Phoebus; his support of them in their eventual rebellion against Frollo's opressive rule, and his eventual acceptance into the community he so longed to be a part of.

There's more plot, but it's best left unsaid, because if there is any film I encourage you to go out and take another good look at, it is this one.

The only real shortcoming of this film is an unfortunate correlation to its grandiose designs. It aims so high, and, for the most part, succeeds. But also because of it's lofty goals, it falls short to a certain extent when it tries to incorporate two Disney standbys, comic relief and love stories. Disney tries and, for the most part, succeeds with dealing with its first real love triangle, even if it is a little isosceles (only two people coming from the same angle! Hunh? Hunh?). The real problem is with such dark material, they didn't know how to insert comic relief, and so the comic relief they create (the gargoyles) is bumbled through and done very poorly. As PeeDee put it, had this film not had Jason Alexander, it would have been a brighter world, both in and out of the film. But that is really the only shortcoming.

It's art design is as focused and beautiful as the building it's focused on. The score/music (by Alan Menken and Broadway stalwart Stephen Schwartz) is deep and powerful, except for the comic relief number, which feels as forced as the rest of their shtick.

My personal favorite element of this film is the titular hunchback, Quasimodo. I maintain that, over the course of this film, they manage to craft him into one of the most sympathetic and genuinely lovable characters in the whole Disney canon. Taught to live in fear of his own appearance and what it would do (and does, at first) to others, he becomes so insecure and desirous of acceptance and love that despite every setback and cruelty he is subjected to, he still maintains a spirit and a soul that is amongst the most pure and wonderful in the history of Disney film.

It should be noted that this movie, while many people believed it to be a failure, outgrossed both The Little Mermaid and Hercules and was the single best reviewed film of 1996 (still holds a 100% on Rotten Tomatoes among top critics, and an 81% overall). Another criticism of the film is how dissimilar it is to its source material. Now, to this I say two things. 1.) Remember that time that Disney WAS true to it's source material? Yeah, me neither; and 2.) This movie is BETTER than the book. It creates more sympathetic characters, and isn't gloom for gloom's sake, like the rest of Victor Hugo's oeuvre. So suck it, Hugo sycophant.

From Wiry:

So, coming into this film I knew I was in an interesting position, 'cause this is one of my favorites of the Disney canon. Its dark tone, combined with well-fleshed characters (including my favorite Disney character of all time, Clopin) and gutsy music, made it a bit of an odd Gothic child in the Disney renaissance. But just because you may have at best vague, and at worst sour, memories of this film, don't be fooled. Sure, it wasn't the return to form we were hoping for following Pocahontas (I'm speaking from my personal experience of original viewings here), but it stands up surprisingly well as its own film.

Let's start with the look of this film. This is probably the most architecture-heavy Disney films I can think of (with the exception of Beauty and the Beast), which is fitting considering how central Notre Dame itself is to the tale. It ain't The Hunchback of Eastern Park United Methodist Church here. The buildings are beautifully rendered, with supreme attention to detail and a camera that's really really good with swooping. The church is a sanctuary and a prison, the heart of the city, a home and a battleground. It also gives us the three characters who are the biggest problem with the film. Alright, let's get this out of the way: the gargoyles suck, they don't fit with the dark tone, and they deserve to be painfully excised from the film. It's not so much I take issue with the idea that, in his solitude, Quasimodo has gone a bit nutty and imagines elements of his home to be his friends. I sort of like that idea, especially if it were executed in a Calvin and Hobbes fashion - Quasimodo sees the gargoyles one way, everyone else another. But the gargoyles do participate in the world, sort of, so we're not really sure what to do with them. They bring in the comedic armpit jokes and anachronisms... which really aren't even needed since we already have plot-appropriate comic relief - Clopin.

But that said, the gargoyles aren't that important to the overall plot, which is well-paced and character-driven. And, the main characters (Quasimodo, Esmeralda, Frollo, Phoebus, Clopin) are fascinating and well-drawn - there's no throwaway, bland prince/princess among them. They guide us through a world more complicated than most in Disney - a world of duality in which religion can be used to persecute or save, a town can be cruel one day and just the next, and a villain can be motivated to action by his desire for sex clashing against his puritanical values. I know I'm getting pretty grand here, but just watch the opening number and you'll see that this film is shooting for the kind of grandness which one associates with, say, Les Miserables.

And isn't it refreshing to see a grand story told without irony, without the nudge and the wink? This kind of storytelling hasn't been seen on Broadway for years. This fear of looking anything straight-on has pervaded our culture from the high and mighty to the hipsters. Sure, Hunchback takes itself seriously, but it's also very very good.

Final Grade: A-

Final Rankings:1.) The Lion King2.) The Hunchback of Notre Dame3.) Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs4.) Lady and the Tramp5.) The Great Mouse Detective6.) The Jungle Book7.) Fun and Fancy Free

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